I rip his hand off of my mouth and scowl at him. "No! I will not help you superheroes." I push him away aggressively and scramble to my feet. Fire is burning away at me right now. Revenge is singing in my ears. "Never!" I open my mouth to scream, sure, it's deserted for miles but perhaps it'll scare them off.

Another figure comes flying at me, like, what the hell, why not? This time, I'm prepared, I already have my knife halfway out and by the time I stop rolling, it's already pressed to the neck of the man leaning over me. "Try me hero." I spit. "Cause I've got a personal vendetta in this and it's not gonna finish pretty."

"We need your help." He's slightly older than me, he has long, dark hair that hangs around his face and his steely eyes.

"Why would I help you?" I sneered.

"Bucky." Captain America said warningly when the assassin, sidekick and now, fugitive, was quiet for a while like he was pondering all the different ways to kill me.

"I know Steve." Bucky gritted his teeth. He looks to me. "Please."

I dig the knife slightly harder, nudging Bucky off of me so I could stand, he was on his knees.

"We need your help." Steve spoke.

"Well I can't give it to you." I snapped back.

"Why not?" Bucky, on his knees with a knife pointed to his throat asks softly.

"Look around!" I was boarding on hysteria, I was beginning to lose it again. "Look around buddy. You heroes did this, killed, hundreds, of innocent people, families, children, in one of your wayward side fights with a villain. Now this place is obliterated and I-" I cut off suddenly, shaking, clutching a hand to my head.

An explosion bought screams. People flocked in all sorts of directions. I grabbed Emma's hand and we ran.

"Go away." I gritted, clenching my eyes shut and shaking, fear seized my body, I wanted to run, to cry, to scream and break down in horror.

"Miss?" Bucky the assassin and the hero that I hated voice cut through my glaze of hysteria.

"Stop it!" I cried, opening my eyes to see Bucky staggering with my knife on his shoulder. Blood spreading like a time-lapse of a flower upon his shoulder.

"Bucky!" Captain America cried, rushing to his aid.

"I-I." I stuttered, trembling, I staggered a couple of steps back, turned a full one-eighty and ran. I followed the path, taking a few unnecessary diversions but eventually ending with jumping the bio-hazard fence and the last, hundred meters to our shabby apartment.

It took six tries for the key to be jammed inside of the lock, I ripped the door open with enough force to send it flying off of its hinges. Once on the other side, I slammed it shut, breathing heavily. "Pedo chase you home?" Emma says humourlessly, not even looking up from her work (it was another story for another time). Emma looks up and concern crossed her features. "Jesus Olyvia, what did you take?" I shook my head, breathing heavily.

"F-F-flashback." I spoke shortly, still breathing heavily. Emma nodded slowly.

"I get it." She slid off of the couch, slowly taking my hand and setting me down. Once she was sure I was settled, she got up and began rummaging through the fridge for food we didn't have. "What was it this time? Anything specific?"

"All of it." I whispered hoarsely. "I saw all of it."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Emma asked, turning with a jar of week old Nutella in her hand.

"I don't understand what talking will do about it." I grumbled, pulling my legs up, we'd been through this a thousand times before.

"Talking about it distracts you by recounting the story, therefore, it provides a way for you to recount your story with semi-reasonable thinking." Emma was training to be this big shot doctor, it probably included a side course of how to calm down clinically-insane patients.

"Well..." I trailed off. There was a sharp knock at the door. Jayden, thank God. "Saved by the bell." I feigned a sad smile at Emma who rolled her eyes and waved around her Nutella-covered knife.

Jayden was moderately hot, he could do a small-time underwear model if he tried hard enough. He was a bit of a slut though, he went through girls like they were clothes. He was a bit further down the hall in the complex that several bone-dry college students called home. A couple of them were survivors, others were just kids who would rather the hour travel than living on campus.

The placed we lived in wasn't exactly legal, it was an old building that went to the dogs a decade or so ago. It still functioned like a beast with its independent water and electricity (thank you engineering students). Sometimes there'd be a power shortage or we'd run out of non-radioactive water but generally we were okay.

"Yo, Jay-" I slammed open the door then stopped at the sight. Two superheroes in civilian clothing, one with a knife in his shoulder were in my doorway.

"Please." Blondie said. "Now we really need your help."

I looked at them and sighed, rubbing my nose. "Look, I'm sorry that I stabbed you but-"

"Olyvia." Emma said sharply from behind me, "why is Captain America standing in our doorway?"

"He's not Captain America." I spoke, my voice strained, "that's his uh, doppelgänger. Yeah, Jerr...yon. Jerryon."

"Then please." She spoke snappily. "Tell me why Jerryon has a perfect doppelgänger of The Winter Soldier beside him?"

"ComicCon?" I asked weakly as the two superheroes stood awkwardly in the doorway.

"Is not for another three months." Emma huffed. "I would know."

"Right, it's the reason for your existence." I muttered. Bucky made a whining noise in the back of his throat.

"Olyvia, he has a knife in his shoulder, seriously, bring him in!" Emma exclaimed, just realising now. She rushed forwards and brought in Bucky.

"What the hell!" I cry out angrily, mostly at the heroes, a little at Emma, letting my hands drop to my sides, I turn on Mr. America angrily. "You're so lucky she's a somewhat certified doctor." I dragged him inside by the sleeve of his hoodie and slammed the door shut behind him.

"Olyvia this is your knife." Emma huffed, apparently she'd already pulled out the knife, her hands gloved and with a hair net on.

"Correction, it's my father's knife."

"Which he gave to you."

"Which I inherited." I spoke pointedly, making sure to cast glances at Mr. America and boyfriend.

"We're not doing this right now." Emma gritted her teeth. "Not while we have guests."

"Superheroes are much more different from guests, Emma." I grit my teeth, hoping that America hears this.

"We're not doing this right now." Emma resaid. "Now come here and hold his shoulder."

"Me?" I exclaimed. "Why me?"

"Because you're the only one who knows how to do it softly and Jerryon over there might break his best friend's back."

With a sigh and a grit of my tether, I reluctantly stepped towards Bucky. Reaching out, my hands had a slight shake to them. "I'm not gonna bite." Bucky grinned. "I promise."

"Oh really?" I grinned, pressing hard near the wound. Buttface winced and dragged a breath in painfully.

"That's not what she's afraid about." Emma snorted, beginning to stitch up the injury. I tried not to look, just in case I may lapse into another attack in front of the heroes.

"How does it look?" 'Murica asked from behind me.

"I don't know, he looks like he's not dying." I snapped.

"It's not infected which is a bonus, but in built-up areas with high amounts of radiation like that, you can never be sure. The best we can do is monitor for signs of anything bad bidaily."

"Is that when the days are bisexual?" I asked, Emma gave me a scathing look.

"Is that alright if we stay the night?-" Steve asked.

"No." I said outrightly.

"Yes." Emma said at the same time I did, she turned to look at me. "This is the most alive I've seen you since it happened, it'll be good for you." She spoke cooly.

I took a breath in through gritted teeth. "You're not my Mum, you just can't say stuff like that."

"Olyvia-" Emma practically cried, I was done, I turned on my heel and slammed my way into my room. Being the bratty college student I was, I played the most foul mouthed-angry track I could, at the loudest setting I could for as long as I could stand it.

"Olyvia!" My Dad hissed, "turn that down a little." I looked down to my iPod where my music was playing full volume. I slid it down one notch. My father nodded his approval, "better."

"What was the point of that?" I giggled.

"You don't want the speakers to die on you quickly." He wagged his finger at me. "Look after something and you'll be how surprised how long it can last."

Then it became a tic of mine, never have the music too loud, on the contrary, I liked it low, it was almost never past the halfway mark. So, before the song was even halfway through, I had turned it down to the lowest setting.

I slept troubled that night.